


Rules of Engagement

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-27
Updated: 2007-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are consequences to making out with hot alien women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Engagement

Rodney's quiet, incredibly quiet, and it's one of the more disturbing things John's encountered in a while, recent events notwithstanding. He reckons he's probably being punished – likely the hot alien kidnapper's got something to do with the way Rodney's saying nothing at all – but he's pretty tired and definitely regretting the meatloaf and besides, Rodney can't hold it in forever, he's got four years of evidence to back that up. So he gets ready for bed, glad to see the back of a uniform that reminds him of the one he bled all over, brushes his teeth, washes his face, pokes carefully at his healing lip, and shuffles to bed, collapsing with a grateful moan.

It takes Rodney longer to get stripped down and minty – it always does, and John doesn't care to think much about why – but five, ten minutes after John's begun sinking into the mattress, Rodney slides in beside him, curls up on his side and gifts John with a view of the breadth of his back.

"Hey," John murmurs, non-plussed by this turn of events. Neither would actually _say_ they operated on the principle of 'clear it up before you fall asleep,' but with things the way they are in Pegasus, it's a pretty good rule of thumb.

"Mmm?" Rodney replies.

John props himself up on one elbow. "Look. I'm sorry I kissed the hot alien chick, okay?"

Rodney huffs and rolls onto his back. "You _always_ kiss the hot alien chick."

" _Hey_ ," John protests, stung.

Rodney rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. "It's true!"

"First –" John says, waving a finger, "we weren't," he waves a hand, "when I was – you know. With Chaya."

"Setting up a Pavlovian pattern from which you are powerless to escape," Rodney mutters.

"Second –" John breaks in, talking right over him, "I thought I was _stuck_ in that goddamn commune of hippies. It had been six months!"

"Not for me," Rodney mumbles.

"Third – " John continues, "I only kissed Teyla because I was turning into a _bug_. And fourth – "

"Here it comes," Rodney says churlishly, picking at the blanks with his fingers.

" _Fourth_ – I was trying to get home."

Rodney sighs and glances at John, looks away, then glances back. "So _what_ , it was all part of your grand plan to – "

"To _escape_ ," John says, rolling a little closer. "Goddamit, Rodney, she tried to _kill_ me."

"And yet you kissed her and let her take your gun," Rodney points out, pinch-lipped and unhappy. "Nice vigilance."

John sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, okay, so I dropped my guard and – "

Rodney hmmphs.

"I just wanted to get back. In one piece."

"We were coming for you," Rodney sniffs.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that for sure, did I?"

Rodney looks up at the ceiling, aggrieved. "Because what, you think we'd just _leave_ you out there?"

John shifts, uncomfortable. "Well – no, but . . ."

Rodney breathes out – he still seems pissed off. "That's great. That's just great – you'd risk your life for any of us, but think we'd just – "

"I was just trying to stay alive," John breaks in, and he means it. Guilt's crawling restlessly under his skin, and he knows damn well he's lousy at letting other people play the big damn hero, but he knows this is true too – that he wanted to give them a fighting chance.

Rodney looks at him for a long quiet moment before he rolls closer, before he lays a hand on John's hip, right above his boxers, thumbing the warm, bruised skin. "Okay. So for future reference?"

The corner of John's mouth twitches. "Hmm?"

"You're allowed to kiss hot alien women if it keeps you alive."

And he looks so heartbroken at the prospect that John gets it like another punch to the jaw – this has never been about the kiss; this has always been about him living just that little bit longer. "Rodney."

Rodney shakes his head. "It's okay."

"Hey," and John leans in, noses at his cheek, holds there for a moment before he shifts to steal a kiss. "I know, all right?"

Rodney inchworms further into John's personal space, throws an arm around him, lets John pull him closer, hook an ankle behind his calf. "Sorry," he whispers.

"Nah," John murmurs, right up against his temple. "Nothing to be sorry about." And he traces stars and curlicues of 'home' against the base of Rodney's spine until they're both too tired to move, and if neither sleeps that much it's all right, everything considered.


End file.
